Apologies for the short, pictureless post, but I think this is best written in the moment.

So I’m at this ICGEB workshop on RNA structure and function.  The organization is sort of a goodwill to science/research institute sort of thing (I don’t really get it), having many “Member States”.  As they informed me in the beginning of today’s talks, they cover most of the world’s landmass (they’ve got Russia) and most of the world’s population (they’ve got China and India).  But I suppose the United States was sleeping when the application process took place.  Thus I am not one of the privileged members.

Today my friend/co-worker received her vouchers for breakfast and some cash.  In the presence of my co-worker and two friends I asked the secretary why I did not get said vouchers and cash.   She said that it was because I wasn’t supposed to.  “Because I’m an American, right?”

“Yes,” and in some sort of twisted idea of consolation, she added, “but you have many other privileges for being an American.”

I was in the midst of coming up with how I should tell her exactly how ridiculous it is to make such a comment, when she interrupted me, and I simply let it go.  I will avoid a rant about the truthiness of that comment, but I hope you can see some of the ridiculousness yourself.

Sorry again that it’s been so long since I posted.  Between work, an unfortunate and frustrating money situation and finishing the apartment (it’s still not done), I’ve had a bit of a dull time.  Besides that, post-Christmas winter is a rather dull time in Vienna, as it finds most going through the motions as they await the sweet relief of spring.  Oh and will it ever be sweet this year.

SO!
I went to Milan this weekend with the intention of seeing Animal Collective.  Travelling with my South Tyrolean roommate afforded me the opportunity to visit South Tyrol, the region of the Austro-Hungarian empire displaced to Italy after WWI.  After several years of Ital-ification, it received some reparations, and a re-integration of German-speaking and (gasp) Austrian culture.  The region is mixed now in a very lovely way.  Signs now read both languages, Italian mostly on top, and people seem to co-exist without much begrudging.

You’re welcome for the history lesson.  We traveled to Merano through a series of changes between intercity and regional trains, the most interesting of which was at the Italian border.  There, one must purchase a ticket first with a touch-screen machine which spits out a card, which is subsequently validated with a screen-less yellow box containing eleven colored buttons, the numbers 0-9 and a +.  After receiving the card, one inserts the card into the top of the yellow machine, and is commandeered pending the successful entry of the button combination corrisponding to your travel plans.  In none of these steps did I see any instructions as to what you should do, let alone how what you were doing related to your intention of purchase, leaving any tourist completely confused.  I’d like to say that I we handled it flawlessly (although my roommate is quite good at it), or that I gained some intuition for how the system works, but, alas, I cannot.

Our arrival in Merano was greeted with warm weather and a warm family.  We were treated to some lovely Italian pasta, followed by a chat with the grand-folks, culminating in probably the most refreshing night’s sleep of the year.  The next day’s sun revealed the breathtaking view of a mountain seen through the apartmen’s window.  I was again treated to coffee and cake by the Uncle, and birthday joy from the adorable cousin, who offered her cute German and English.

We then drove to Bolzano (or Bolzen, depending on which part of the sign you read), where we missed our first connection to Milan.  This was not a bad thing, as we got to spend some time in the lovely capitol of South Tyrol.  I had my first real Italian cappuccino, and strolled through a lovely town which made me ask, why would anyone leave South Tyrol?

We got to Milan and plopped our stuff down and b-lined to the show.  We met a couple Americans there, some of the types I miss: the aimless opportunist and the self-aware hipster.  It goes without saying that the show was in-fucking-credible if you’ve ever heard this band.

Eschewing another what-I-think-about-a-band scree, let’s move on to our day in Milan.  We began with the Duomo (cathedral), which in these European cities are commonly impressive, however this one was VERY impressive.  The American was right, it looked better in the night, but I failed to take pictures then.  Google it.
We strolled through a super-upscale shopping arcade, then headed for a park, where we saw more than four Asian couples getting married, or just honeymooning it up western style, to show some pictures back home.  Either way, the confetti was enough to wade through and lament, as it was even getting into the ponds.

Before attempting to catch a glimpse of the original da Vinci’s Last Supper (and thus completely my quest to come to a full grasp of the Dan Brown’s wondrous, enchanting epic tale), we stopped in at a real local Italian pizza place.  Let me tell you, I have had a lot of American pizza, and even at its most Italian, it does not compare to this shit.  If you’re ever in Italy you have to try this, man, it’s voll lecker.  You won’t believe your mouth.

Our attempts at the Last Supper were thwarted by the presence of other tourists who (gasp) had the SAME IDEA.  But it was cool: the system works where you make an appointment to come in, and you will only come with 25 other people.  So you avoid the Louvre effect by eliminating the lineup situation, and the dumb museum effect of peering over other impatient shoulders.  Still this means we saw shit except the front of the church, which is, relative to Europe standards, not really much more than shit.

We took a stroll into yet another park and I found a place to perch myself onto a rock and read as my roommate took a nap on a bench.  That was great.  We finally visited the impressive cemetery before missing our next connection to the airport.  We made it back safe, but at least our mishaps made the traveling less boring.

You know the routine, more shit on flickr.